


Tendrils in my Mind

by NickelModelTales



Category: Original Work
Genre: Dubious Consent, Erotica, F/M, Hypnotism, Male-Female Friendship, Master/Slave, POV Female Character, Porn With Plot, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Slavery, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-22 00:31:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14925977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NickelModelTales/pseuds/NickelModelTales
Summary: Kim's boyfriend convinces her to try hypnotism; she becomes his enslaved plaything





	1. Friday Night

***DISCLAIMER 1***

This is a work of sheer fiction, and absolute smut at that. In no way, shape, or form could these events happen in real life.

***DISCLAIMER 2***

This work contains detailed descriptions of sex acts. Also, one character is coerced into the sex, so you might view all sex acts as nonconsensual. If this offends you in any way, please read something else.

***DISCLAIMER 3***

This work involves a woman becoming mentally enslaved to a man, and he takes full advantage. If this offends you in any way, please read something else.

***DISCLAIMER 4***

If you made it through Disclaimers 1 through 3, we should also add that this work is in very poor taste and is probably not suitable for anyone. If this offends you in any way, please read something else.

****************************************************************************************************************

What can I tell you about myself? My name is Kim. I’m twenty-six, live in the Valley, I’m an actress.

…well…

I **_am_** an actress. My credits aren’t very long yet, but they are growing. Because I have big tits and flat abs, I do get work, usually as an extra or background eye candy. Most of my parts take half a day to shoot. You know, I’m the pretty girl two tables over in a restaurant scene. Or I’m the hot chick walking down the beach in a butt-floss bikini. Or I’m the cheerleader who hangs off the quarterback’s arm, chewing gum. Last week, I was a Viking slave girl, and I actually got a line: “ _No, Krom, no!_ ” I nailed it.

When I’m not auditioning – which is often – I teach yoga. Lots of yoga. Its good income, flex hours, keeps me superbuff, and occasionally you meet someone in the industry that way. The downside is I get ogled. A lot. It used to bother me, but… well, whataddya gonna do? I once almost got a part because a casting director took my class and thought my butt would be perfect for a role. I didn’t get it… apparently some other girl has a greater butt… but it was superweird to have coffee with a talent scout and talk about how my ass could be a big star.

I live in Burbank, in a crap apartment with my boyfriend, Chet. Yes, his name is Chet. Chet is 100% California, which means he is lazy and looks good doing it. Chet is a professional trainer, so he works out about two hours a day, then “trains” gym clients for another six hours. From what he tells me, his clients are middle-aged and overweight and therefore gross, and they don’t seem to want to work that hard.

Which suits Chet just fine. I love that boy, but he really has no ambition. He fills his days doing three things: Working at the gym, reading, and getting high. Our apartment reeks.

So why am I telling you this? Because things got weird not because he is lazy or smokes weed, but because he reads really, really weird shit.

***

It was Friday afternoon. I had two back-to-back auditions, neither of which I got. The first was for a mom role and they wanted someone “more maternal” (whatever that means) and the second was for a space alien woman who would have to suck out peoples’ brains with her mind, or something. I have no idea what they wanted. If I got the role, they would have painted my body green and I would have something rubber stuck to my forehead. Probably a shit role anyway.

My studio didn’t have any classes to teach, so I fight Rt 101 traffic home, which mades my bad mood a billion times worse. And of course, I open my front door, and weed smoke blows into my face. Chet was home, lighting up. Now my hair smells like dope. Great.

“Hey,” I say to Chet, although I fell less-than-happy to see him. “No training today?”

“Hey babe,” he says, and exhales. Of course, he’s lounging on the couch in his shorts, a book and a joint in his hands. “Naw, my three-o-clock canceled. I didn’t feel like blasting my quads.”

 _Blasting your quads,_ I think contemptuously. Why guys talk about working out like firing heavy artillery, I don’t know.

Whatever. I flop into the armchair, and debate if I want a beer.

Chet takes another draw, then returns to his book. I eye him, annoyed. Tiff, my bestie girlfriend, has a boyfriend who works as a production exec and takes MBA classes at night. In three years, he’ll be making six figures. Why can’t my boyfriend show a little ambition?

“What are you reading?” I ask.

Chet holds up his book: “Hypnosis for You and Your Friends.”

This is like the fifth hypnosis book he’s read in a row. “What is it with you and hypnosis?” I ask incredulously.

“I just think its cool,” Chet shrugs. Then he sits up.

“Hey,” he says. “Let me hypnotize you?”

“What?” I say. This is the last thing I want my romantic other to say right now.

“Let me hypnotize you,” he presses. “Its pretty easy. I know I can do it.”

“Please,” I snort. “Even if you could do it, why would I let you hypnotize me? You want me to walk around the apartment naked all the time? Give over my money?”

Chet grins. “No, no,” he says, a little too quickly. “It doesn’t work that way.”

“Forget it,” I tell him.

He sits up and then leans forward. He puts on those puppy-dog eyes that I love. “Aw, com’on,” he coaxes. “Tell you what: You let me hypnotize you, and I’ll take you dancing tonight.”

I pause. Dancing? I would chew glass for a night of dancing with my beau and girlfriends. I can’t remember the last time we went.

“You serious?” I ask levelly.

“Totally,” Chet assures me. He leans in closer.

“…okay,” I say, stuck with the feeling that I’m somehow getting the bum end of this arrangement.

“Great!” Chet grins. “But – this is the serious part – you have to really let me hypnotize you. Don’t do it if you aren’t serious.”

“Okay, okay,” I say.

“Nice.” Chet stabs out his joint and clear space for me on the sofa. “Sit here,” he commands. “Feet on the floor.”

I sigh and do as he asks. Chet pulls the curtains and then plops down next to me.

“Sit up straight, hands on your knees,” he tells me. “Now: close your eyes.”

“For real?” I say while doing as he asks. “No pocketwatch?”

“Shut up,” he says playfully. “Now… deep breath in. Deep breath out.”

Feeling silly, I do it.

“Good,” he tells me. “Again. Now let your body relax.”

“Like-“ I start to ask.

“Don’t speak!” Chet insists. “Just breath. Relax. Follow my voice.”

I shrug inside. Chet has me breathe in and out, in and out, over and over again. He tells me how relaxed I am feeling, how good it feels to follow his instructions, blah blah blah. I begin to think that he is trying to bore me into sleep.

But I follow along. My breathing does become deeper, like in a really, really good Shavasana. My legs and then my arms feel tingly, then heavy.

“…as I count down from ten to one…” I am aware of Chet saying.

His voice drones on, but I’m not sure if I’m listening. My problems disconnect from my thoughts. I had no idea our beat-up sofa could ever feel so comfortable. But then again, my body feels both like it is made of lead and made of air at the same time. I could be floating through the sky. At one point, I think my hands physically float off my thighs, but then Chet says they are heavy again and they drop down on the cushions beside me.

“…three…” Chet’s voice says, “…two…”

I’m totally unconcerned about anything in the world.

“One!” Chet says.

I remember nothing.

***

Then Chet is snapping his fingers, loudly. I blink twice and rub my eyes. What the…

I remember. Chet, the big bonehead, thought he could hypnotize me. But he couldn’t have hypnotized me, because I’ve only been sitting on the sofa for, like a minute. My mind must have wandered off or something.

Yes. That’s it. I remember now. Chet said his mumbo-jumbo and I followed along, but the hypnosis didn’t have any effect on me. None. I remember the whole thing.

Chet watches me carefully. “How do you feel?” he asks.

I shrug. “Fine,” I say, after clearing my throat. “Sorry, baby.”

“Sorry for what?” Chet asks.

“That the hypnosis didn’t work,” I console him. “I’m just not a good subject.”

“Maybe not,” he says.

For a moment, I actually feel sorry for him. Chet can be adorable, in a sad puppy-dog way.

But the moment passes. “Anyway,” I say, “you want to get ready?”

Chet raises his eyebrows.

“For dancing,” I remind him. “I’ll contact the girls, we should go to-“

“You sure you want to go dancing?” says Chet.

“You promised,” I reminded him.

“Yeah, but… homebody,” Chet says, pronouncing the last word very deliberately.

My mind goes blank or a moment. Dancing? Why do I want to go dancing?

“We should stay in,” I say immediately.

Chet smiles slightly. “You’re sure, babe?” he asks.

“Omigod,” I tell him. “Dancing is so lame.” The more I think about it, the more I’m amazed I ever wanted to go. Why would anyone want to go dancing?

“We should stay in,” I insist. To convince him, I lean forward, and make sure my breasts press against his arm.

Chet grins ear-to-ear. “Sure,” he says, and I love him a little more than usual. I lean in, and give him a big, wet, deep kiss. He is getting hard, I can tell.

The kiss finally breaks. “So…” I say, feeling randy, “what are we going to do?”

“I have some ideas,” he says, and leans back. “Kim? Natural.”

He pronounces “Natural” slowly and deliberately, as if inventing the word for the first time.

Once again, my mind goes blank.

Suddenly I realize: I am overdressed! I look down. I’m in the tee-shirt and jeans I wore to the auditions. Why am I wearing these? This is way too much clothes.

“Hold on,” I tell Chet, and quickly strip off my shirt. As he eyes me (I don’t mind), I hop to my feet, unzip my jeans, and shimmy out of them. I feel sexy, and shake my hips a little more than usual to give Chet a show.

My shirt, jeans, and shoes on the floor, I look down at my body. I look good, I mean really, really good. But something still doesn’t feel quite… right…

“Chet, baby,” I say, wondering how to express what’s in my head. “You mind if I take everything off?”

Chet shakes his head, grinning broadly.

Wasting no time, I unhook my bra and drop it to the floor. My girls feel liberated and bounce for joy once they are freed. Another quick shimmy, and my panties are off too. I feel a relief inside. It is so natural to be naked.

Chet is openly staring at my body. Normally I would snap at him for this, but today I love his eyes on my body. I giggle and twirl around, making sure to jiggle my tits and ass for him. It feels good to please him; I don’t know why.

“Very nice, baby,” smirks Chet. I giggle some more.

He gestures, and I lean over him. We kiss again, another long, wet one. His hands cup my breasts. I can feel myself getting wet. I want him to fuck me.

But he holds the kiss for almost a minute. I moan softly, hoping he’ll get the message and take me to our bedroom. His other hand slides between my knees and then up my inner thighs. The skin of his hand nudges my wetness.

But then he breaks the kiss and leans back. “Back to normal!” he commands, and snaps his fingers.

I don’t know what happens, but I suddenly I feel like cold water hits my face. What the fuck…? I am naked, acting like a porno bimbo, throwing myself at my shiftless boyfriend! The hell???

Thoughts of sex vanish like a soap bubble. I’m furious, furious at myself for acting so stupid. What was I thinking? And I’m furious at Chet, who is now laughing at me. I was just shaking my tits at this loser; what the hell?

 _He must have tricked me,_ I think. Did I drink that beer? Did he get me drunk?

No, I don’t feel drunk. Just embarrassed and angry.

Cursing, I snatch my clothes. My fingers tremble with rage and humiliation as I try to thread my legs back into my panties.

“Babe, babe,” Chet says, standing up, “I’m sorry. Don’t be mad.” He stands and moves next to me.

“Shut the fuck up,” I tell him.

“Hey,” he tells me gently, taking my arm. “Its okay. I was just having some fun.”

“You’re an asshole,” I say, and I mean it.

“Naw,” Chet tells me. “Hey, look at me. Seriously, look at me.”

I hesitate. I’m still naked, and I want nothing to do with him. But I look into his eyes anyway.

Suddenly, I can’t look away.

“I’m sorry,” he tells me. I don’t reply.

“You feel okay,” Chet says. “Look deeper into my eyes, please. Deeper and deeper… Deeper and deeper…”

His eyes seem to grow and recede at the same time. My arms and fingers relax, and my panties drop back to the carpet. My anger melts away; I feel relaxation sweeping over me. I can’t resist.

“Sleep,” Chet commands me, and my eyes shut.

***

And then Chet is snapping his fingers and I come back to life. I am leaning against my boyfriend, allowing his muscle-bound arms to support me against his body. I am still naked.

I stand on my own, brushing the cobwebs from my mind. I’m momentarily confused, but the feeling passes.

“How do you feel?” Chet asks me.

“Oh, yeah,” I say, collecting my thoughts, “I’m good.”

“Nice,” he says and a wicked look crosses his face. I know that look; he’s horny.

But I’m not. I’m naked, but I’m still a little freaked out about all the weirdness that’s been going on. I try to step away, step out of his grasp.

“Hey,” he says softly. His hand slides down my body and cups my buttock. I can feel him getting hard.

“Chet; I’m not in the mood,” I warn him. Which is the truth.

“I want you,” he tells me.

I push him away, a little. His hand is still clamped onto my ass.

Growling a little, he says, “I want you… slave.”

I blink. “Yes master,” I say, automatically. I stop pushing him.

He kisses me, squeezing my butt even more. He is hard as a rock now. I’m a little confused… but not alarmed.

“Spread your legs, slave,” he orders.

“Yes master,” I say, and obey him. His hand circles around my hips, and two of his fingers dip into my pussy. I am already wet.

Normally I would never let any man penetrate me while standing. But Chet has some weird power over me. As I feel his fingers inside me, a wave a pleasure kisses my vagina and washes over me. I gasp, feel my eyes close, and lean against him. His fingers are barely inside me, but I come close to cumming right then.

Chet grunts. “Suck me,” he commands me.

“Yes master.” Without thinking, I sink to my knees before him. My fingers peel off his shorts and his erect penis springs forward. I suck it eagerly with greedy swallows. I am so happy to pleasure him.

Chet moans, loudly. His fingers dig into my hair as my head bobs back and forth. He mumbles incomprehensible things: “Oh my god baby you are so hot I knew you could be hypnotized you will be my hypnotized slave forever we have to bring your girlfriends over so I can mind-fuck them too oh god you are so good my slave my little-“ His voice erupts into a roar of delight as he cums in my mouth. It is like receiving a fire hose. I suck even harder, gulping him down.

“Oh my god,” Chet gasps. His body is shaking. I smile with pleasure.

“Into the bedroom,” he orders.

I rise to my feet. “Yes master.”

Soon I am on our bed, on all fours, my ass hanging over the edge. Chet has placed me this way, and now stands behind me, his hands on my hips. Amazingly, he is fully erect again. He clearly means to enter me from behind. I don’t like doggie, and I’ve never wanted to do anal. But I also know I will do whatever he wants. He is my master.

Chet strokes my hips with his fingertips, while allowing his tip to just kiss my wet pussy. Each tiny contact is a mini-orgasm, I swear to God.

“Kim, when I snap my fingers,” Chet says from behind me, “you will realize that you are tied to the bed. The harder you try to pull away, the tighter you are tied in place.”

This makes no sense to me, but I am too horny to think about it. I want him to plunge inside me, so so so badly. “Yes master,” I say, although I am unaware of speaking.

Chet does snap his fingers, and suddenly I realize there are strong, velvet ropes bound about my wrists, my knees, and my ankles. They are tight but not painful. But I can’t move any of my limbs.

“I can’t move!” I gasp.

“Fuck yeah,” Chet exclaims, and rams into me. Oh, does it feel good! He hammers away. My arms and legs are immobilized, and all I can do is lean back into his cock. I want to lean into his cock. I want it to slam inside me again and again and split me open. I want to cum all over his member.

Again Chet is mumbling. “Kim you are my slave,” he groans. “You are my willing slave, do you hear me?”

“Yes master!” I cry.

“You will obey all my commands,” Chet says, pumping me even harder. I am close.

“Y-y-yes master!” I tell him.

“Say it!” he spits.

“I w-w-will obey all your c-c-commands, master!!!” I half-yell, half-moan. I can feel the orgasm rising up inside me. I am so aroused, I literally don’t care what I am saying. “I am your slave!”

“Yes!” Chet shouts, and I feel his body shake as he cums.

I am close, but not there yet. “Oh please master,” I beg, fucking him even harder. “Please…!”

“Cum NOW!” he commands me.

All of my senses overload as the single biggest orgasm of my life explodes within my body. I shout with pleasure and feel all of my muscles spasm at once. The ropes holding me seem to dissolve. I am gushing with chemical joy. I must be hosing Chet down.

Amazingly, he can keep going. He grabs my hips again and flips me onto my back. I am still reeling from my orgasm and barely can tell. He rams back inside me, now on top of me. Again, me speaks nonsense: “Kim you will be hypnotized every night I want you to be my slave you can’t resist my power over you fuck me so hard bitch oh yeah you are mine oh god.”

“Yes master!” I cry out over and over.

Chet cums again, and I swear the bed almost collapses from the strain.

Gasping, my master pulls out and rolls off me. “Oh god,” he mutters over and over again.

I am collecting my own thoughts, which are scattered everywhere. My body is shimmering head-to-toe with absolute pleasure. Chet is my master, I think of myself. I have to do whatever he tells me. The thought makes me smile. Amazingly, I’m overjoyed to be a slave.

My master’s slave.

Chet catches his breath, then rolls on his side to face me. I smile like a little girl.

“Are you happy, master?” I ask coyly.

He grins, that big dopey grin. “Sleep,” he orders me.

My eyes fall shut.


	2. My Boyfriend's Plaything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kim falls deeper under her boyfriend's hypnotic spell. He proves to have an expansive imagination

***DISCLAIMER 1***  
This is a work of sheer fiction, and absolute smut at that. In no way, shape, or form could these events happen in real life.

***DISCLAIMER 2***  
This work contains detailed descriptions of sex acts. Also, one character is coerced into the sex, so you might view all sex acts as nonconsensual. If this offends you in any way, please read something else.

***DISCLAIMER 3***  
This work involves a woman becoming mentally enslaved to a man, and he takes full advantage. If this offends you in any way, please read something else.

***DISCLAIMER 4***  
If you made it through Disclaimers 1 through 3, we should also add that this work is in very poor taste and is probably not suitable for anyone. If this offends you in any way, please read something else.

*******************************************************************************************************

I wake in pitch blackness, a little groggy.  I am in bed with Chet.  In the moonlight, I can see we are both naked and the bedsheets are sweaty and twisted every which way.  Chet is snoring like a grizzly.

I lay back, thinking.  What the hell…?  I remember I went to the lousy auditions yesterday.  After that, I remember coming home to Chet, and then… we talked about something.  But I can’t remember what.  I was momentarily annoyed with him, but then…

But then I must have gotten into a really, really weird mood or something, because then I was bouncing around in my birthday suit front of Chet, giggling and acting like a total slut.  I frown.  _That’s totally unlike you, Kim,_ I think to myself…  but I do remember enjoying it.

And then, Chet and I roleplayed master and slave.  I’m amazed I agreed to it.  And, if I am honest, I admit to myself that it was hot.  So hot.  My poor vajayjay is still gasping for breath.

Superweird.  I’m not a submissive girl and I don’t like that possessive master/slave stuff.  I’ve had previous boyfriends who made lame jokes about doing submission, and its never lit my fire.  At all.

I look at Chet, considering him.  I’ve been with him for, what, seven months now?  How come last night his inner dominator came out?  And how come I went for it?

Because the sex was hot, I remind myself.  Scorching.

But I don’t think I’ll want to do that slave thing again.

 

 ***

 

But from that day on, things are just… really weird.  I start walking around our apartment in only panties, sometimes all day long.  At the most random moments, I decide I had to give Chet a BJ.  I don’t know where the urge come from, but suddenly I am be on my knees before him, eagerly unzipping his fly, then sucking away on Little Chet.  It is like my Inner Slut took over.

Those things are whack enough.  But then, something happens to top everything.

It is Wednesday.  I am getting home, having just taught three back-to-back-to-back hot yoga classes.  I stink and I am sore all over.  I hop in the shower.

When I come out and get dressed, Chet is home.  I kiss him then we settle down on the sofa.  We are cuddling nonstop these days.

“Hey baby,” I say.  “Whatddaya want to do for dinner?”

“Not hungry,” he says.  He is eyeing me with obvious lust. 

_Uh-oh,_ I think.  I need a break from all the sex.

“What if we went out for Mexican?” I ask.

“Let’s stay in,” he counters.

I don’t hide my disappointment.  “Aw,” I say, “Baby, we haven’t been out since-“

With a quick gesture, he places two fingers square in the center of my forehead.  “You should change into your sexiest underwear,” he tells me.

I blink.  An idea has just popped into my head.  _I should change into my sexiest underwear,_ I think.  What a perfect notion!  “Excuse me,” I say, and slip out of his arms.

In the bedroom, I strip naked, then fish through my undies drawer.  I find the smallest bra and panties in existence, the little black ones which are little more than string and tiny patches of satin.  If I wear the bra and raise my arms, I’m certain to pop a nip.  These babies are for in the bedroom only.

Humming to myself, I wriggle into the set.  _This was an awesome idea,_ I tell myself.  Every day should be sexy underwear day.

I pull on my clothes (sweatshirt and jeans) back on and rejoin Chet in the living room.  He is lounging on the sofa, legs spread, huge boner poking up under his trousers.  He stares at me.

“Sit here,” he says, patting the cushion next to him.  I do.

“Sleep!” he commands, snapping his fingers before my eyes.  I remember nothing more.

 

 ***

 

I hear finger snaps.  My eyes flutter open.  I sit up, rubbing my face.  I was out of it for a second.

I look around.  I know right where I am.  I am in the VIP Room of Spearmint Rhino, only the most exclusive strip club in the world.  The walls are dark oak, draped with red velvet, which matches the furniture.  Of course the lights are dimmed and incense are burning.

I am Kim, the club’s most exclusive dancer.  Men come from all over the world to see my dance and play by the fistful for one of my lap dances.  I totally am the hottest woman alive.  Sitting next to me is Chet, the gentleman who has rented my time for the evening.  Well, I got him into the VIP room.  How good the show will be from here depends on how much more he is willing to pay.

I slither up to my feet, making sure to brush the outside of his leg with one hand.  “Hello there, honey,” I murmur in my best Marilyn Monroe voice.

Chet is all smiles.  “Hi there!” he says.  He looks like a little boy about to experience all his Christmases at once.

I dance for him, really just swaying my hips side to side while running my hands over my tummy.  You have to entice the customers before they’re willing to pay you the big bucks.  I hope Chet is loaded.

“Is there something you want, honey?” I breathe.

“Full monty, ma’am,” Chet tells me.

“Honey,” I sigh.  “To get the show…” - I briefly touch his erection – “…you’ve got to pay the admission.”

Chet nods.  He dips into his wallet and then withdraws…

…three thousand dollar bills!

Whoa!  Chet is rich!  Now we’re in business.  Not believing my luck, I snatch the cash, then go to work.  Swinging my hips about, I turn my back and peel out of my top, then my bottom.  I am, of course, wearing my sexy underwear.  I take my time and let him watch.

My clothes on the floor, I really bust out the moves.  Its pretty easy, really.  I wriggle my ass at Chet, then whirl about, lean forward, and let him stare into my cleavage.  I shake my shoulders.

Now for the big finish.  Although his hard-on is a major obstacle, I straddle Chet and sway my shoulders.  My tits bob before his delighted face.  Working slowly, I unhook the bra and allow him to pull it off.

I swear his erection will push me off his lap.  I guide his hand to my breasts and begin thrusting over him, again and again and again.  I also begin some fake moans, licking my lips a bit, and tossing my hair back.  This is why I get paid the big bucks.  He’ll shortly cum in his pants – all my customers do – and I’ll be richer by three G’s.  Easy money.

But Chet doesn’t cum.  He laughs, big whooping, hollering laughs.  “Oh my god, I had no idea you were so good,” he manages.

_Of course I’m this good,_ I think, almost insulted.  _I’m the best fucking stripper in the world._

I ride him for another minute.  “Okay, okay,” he cries out.  “We have to stop here.”  He begins to push me off his lap.

I resist.  “Oh no, honey,” I coo.  “My customers don’t go home with blue balls.”  I start massaging his cock over his pants.

“No, you don’t get it,” he says.  “I really have to fuck you, now.”

This is not what I want to hear.  “Honey,” I say patiently, still servicing him, “you can see me like this, but that’s as far as the show goes.”

“I have to fuck you,” he insists.  He applies his weight forward, and tries to lower me onto the couch.

“Stop!” I bark.  “The fucking bouncer will be all over you-“

“Look into my eyes,” he commands, leaning closer.

I hesitate.  His eyes are bright.  I was about to say something angry, but not the words are gone from my mind.  Chet now seems imposing and I now want to please him.  I stop resisting and he lowers me onto the couch.  I can’t break his gaze.

“You are my slave,” he tells me.

That sounds so perfect.  “I am your slave,” I agree.  I lift my hips so he can rip off my panties.

Now I am completely nude and – I am shocked – completely wet.  Chet dips two fingers into my clit and I gasp with delight as he brushes my spot.

Now his pants are off and he is on top of me, kissing my neck with his groping, open mouth.  I feel, but do not see, his penis enter me.  I cry out with pleasure.  His tip is just dipping in and out of me, teasing my clit again and again and again.  It feels so good.

Now I know I am a slave for this man.  Dancers are never supposed to fuck the customers, but I don’t care.  I want him to penetrate me and I want it so badly.  I catch myself saying, “ _Don’t stop, master, don’t stop!!!_ ’

And then his cock roars into me.  I feel a freight train at full steam rush up into the depths of my pussy.  I cum immediately.  Again and again he bangs me, harder and harder.  Oh, it is so good.

We do nothing but fuck for what must be an uninterrupted five minutes.  His stamina is breathtaking.  I take it all, climaxing all the time.  My arms are pinned at my sides and he weight bares down on me.  I am so turned on to be so helpless beneath him.

After a forever, he slows, then stops.  I am spent.  I lie where I am, heaving for breath and sweating.  He collapses on top of me.  His cock is still inside me.

Only now does it occur to me that I’ll be fired from the club.  I am, well, very loud when fucked.  I’m sure the bouncer outside the VIP room heard me.

Oh well.  It was totally worth it.  I can always dance at Scores.

Chet pulls out, grunting.  His penis is dripping with my cum.  Hot.

Chet grins, a dopey, lopsided grin.  “You are so amazing,” he tells me as he sits up.  I struggle to sit up next to him.

“No, no,” he says.  “Lie back.”  I do so.  “Good,” he tells me.  “Now…. Sleep!”

I fade into nothingness.

 

 ***

  

My eyes open.  I am slouched on the sofa.  I am naked, and I can tell I’ve just been fucked.  Chet is sitting by my head, absently playing with my hair.

“The fuck…?” I say, sitting up.  I feel a little light-headed.

“Hey babe,” he tells me, nuzzling my cheek with his nose.

I’m still getting my bearings.  I don’t remember taking off my clothes.  “Did we just screw?” I ask.

Chet shrugs.  “I got horny,” he says.  “You look hot in my old sweatshirt.”

Something’s not right.  I sort of remember having sex on our sofa, but I don’t really.  Sort of how you feel after waking up from a vivid dream.  You kinds remember the most important parts, but just in bits and pieces.

And something’s not right.  I have this weird feeling that I was… a stripper?  Whaaaat???

I totally remember thinking that I was a stripper of some kind.  Which is so bizarre.  I’ve never thought about stripping and would never do it in a bazillion years.  No way.  Yet I remember thinking that…

“Kim,” Chet says.  “Look at me.”

I do so, and my thoughts seem to fade.

“Don’t worry about it,” Chet tells me.  “Go take a shower.  By the time you step into the water, you’ll have forgotten everything that we just did.  You won’t remember being a dancer and you won’t remember having sex.  We were sitting on the couch talking the whole time.  You will forget.”

He snaps his fingers.  I jump, a little.

“I’m going to hop into the shower,” I tell Chet, and hurry into the bathroom.  As the water splashes over my sticky body, my thoughts turn to other matters.  I love Chet.  He’s such a good guy.  I wonder if we’ll have sex tonight.

“Hey babe,” Chet says when I emerge from the bathroom.  “Let’s go out for Mexican.”

 

 ***

  

The weirdness continues.  One day later, I am home, getting off the phone with my girlfriend Kat.  Chet approaches me from behind.  “Hey,” he says.  I look up at him.

“Sleep!” he tells me.

 

 ***

 

When I look around next, it takes me a second or two to remember who I am and what is going on.  Of course!  I am Snow White, the most innocent princess in the world.  My wicked stepmother has dressed me in rags and enslaved me.  But my fair spirit remains uncrushed.

I am in the forest.  I look up to see Prince Charming, smiling down at me.  I smile back.  It is true love.  Well…. True love, plus I am suddenly wet.

“Hello princess,” his baritone thunders.

I blush.  I hope he takes me to his castle.  Suddenly, I am shy.

Prince Charming unzips his trousers.  As he slides off his undergarments, his erect cock springs forth.  I am stunned.  Being an innocent, virginal princess and all, I have never seen a man’s erect cock.  It calls to me in a strange magnetic, way.

Somehow knowing exactly what the prince wants, I yank off my princess panties and recline on my back.

 

 ***

  

Later… and I’m not sure how much later… I am a high school student.  I’m super popular, super hot, super spoiled.  I don’t give a fuck about the world.  Everyone wants to love me.  Or fuck me.  Whatevs.

I am in Principal Chet’s office for flipping off my Chem teacher.  Again, whatevs.  Bitch had it coming.

Principal Chet regards me with arms crossed.  I sigh dramatically and make a show of rolling my eyes.  Whatevs.  I need to text my hot college-age boyfriend and bounce this place.

“You have been very naughty this time, Kim,” Principal Chet tells me.  “We’ve got to correct your behavior.”

“Yeah, _totally,_ ” I drawl, pouring on the sarcasm.

“We’re going to hypnotize you into being a good student,” Principal Chet announces, and produces – I shit you not – a watch on a chain, which he swings before my eyes.

“Whatevs,” I’m about to say, when…

…I’m not sure what happens next.  My mind wanders.

“Strip for me, slave,” Principal Chet demands.

My thoughts clear.  “Yes master,” I say immediately, and begin wriggling out of my miniskirt.

 

*** 

  

Much later… again, not sure how much later… I am Kim the Superspy, sent to capture the evil Dr. Chet before he can release his Hypnosis Bomb and sexually enslave the people of the free world.  The President is counting on me completing this mission.  I’m close; right now, I’m holding Dr. Chet at gunpoint.

“Surrender, Dr. Chet,” I bark.  If he tries anything, I’m ready to use my kung fu.

Dr. Chet smirks.  “Agent Kim,” he purrs.  “How nice to see you.”

“Save it,” I tell him.

“Look into my eyes,” Dr. Chet tells me.  That seems harmless.

I do so, and…

…I momentarily lose track of the moment.  I feel Dr. Chet taking my pistol from my fingers.

“You don’t need that,” he says confidently.

“No master,” I agree.

The President will understand; Dr. Chet just wants to hypnotize everyone and make them into slaves.  Its quite nice, actually.  I smile.

Dr. Chet unzips my catsuit and begins caressing my breasts.  I kiss him, eagerly.

 

*** 

 

Still later, I wake up.  I am Kim, yoga instructor, in my own apartment with my boyfriend Chet.  It is three AM.

I blink a few times.  I am having the weirdest dreams!  I was… a princess?  Stripper?  Spy?  I’m not sure.  The visions are hazy.

As I tumble back to sleep, I forget all those images.  In the morning, I’ll have forgotten everything.


	3. What Goes Around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kim overhears a vital conversation.

The following Thursday, I get unwelcome news.  It seems a water main broke in the apartment over my yoga studio; the entire building is shut down.  Glenn, the studio’s owner, tells me everything is a soggy mess and the insurance company will close us down for the foreseeable future.  Weeks, maybe.

This is really, really bad news.  I have two hundred dollars in my checking account and the credit card bill is outstanding.  No studio means no paychecks.  Cursing, I quickly check online to see if there are any good auditions posted.  _I really need a job,_ I tell the universe.  _I really need a job._

Nope, there is nothing.  Nothing good, anyway.  There is an open call for extras for a show filming on Malibu beach.  But its unpaid.  That means I’d be asked to wear a bikini and get hit on all day.  For free?  Not remotely worth it.  There is also an audition for a “middle-aged mom, the cookie-baking type.”  Somehow I don’t think I’d get that role.

I should get off my ass and look for a new yoga job.  There are twenty girls like me who teach yoga on every city block in Burbank.  Such jobs are rare.  I just don’t have the uumph to go look.  I hate everything.

Depressed, I grab the potato chips and start binge-streaming in the bedroom.  I waste three hours, then snap off the TV.  Time for a nap.  I’ve literally got nothing better to do.

*** 

The front door slams shut, waking me.  I blink, collecting my thoughts.  What time is it?  Must be mid-afternoon.

I hear Chet in the living room, moving about.  Sounds like he’s looking for something on the kitchen table, which is covered in our junk.  He probably doesn’t realize I’m home; last night I told him I’d be teaching at the studio.

I’m about to call out when Chet speaks.  “Fuck, bro,” he says aloud, “I can’t find my charger.  Its gotta be here…  Hold on.”  He starts rummaging.

I hear the filtered voice of Duncan, his best friend.  Duncan must be on speakerphone.  He says: “Tell me again… she thought she was a stripper?  For real?”

Chet laughs.  “For real!  She totally thought she was a real fucking stripper.  Kim is like, ultra-hypnotizable!”

I freeze.

Duncan sounds dumbfounded.  “Oh my God, dude.  So what did you do?”

“I made her dance for me!” Chet brags.  I hear him rummage about on the table.  “Once she’s under, Kim does whatever I program her to do.  She is literally my slave.”

I feel like I was hit by a truck.  I’m not entirely sure what Chet is talking about… but his words feel true somehow.  Worse, I don’t like the way his voice sounds when he’s describing me.  He is cold, disrespectful, contemptuous.  Like I’m a disposable conquest.

“Literally your slave,” Duncan echoes Chet’s words.  He sounds impressed.

“You have no idea, bro,” exclaims Chet.  “When I first put Kim under, I had to break down her resistance a little.  But now I have her programmed with so many trigger words, I can get nudity or a BJ or whatever just by commanding her.  I’m, like, really in control of her mind.”

“Huh,” Duncan manages.

Chet shoves a pile of stuff down the table.  He says, “Seriously, I just tell her, ‘ _BJ now,_ ’ and she drops to all fours and sucks me.  Its beautiful.”

As he says, “ _BJ now,_ ” I suddenly feel that I **_must_** go to him.  I am rising off the bed, reaching for the doorknob, and thinking about sucking Chet’s cock.

 _What are you doing, Kim?!?_ My brain screams at me.

I stop cold.  The desire to pleasure Chet is still strong, but I have somehow stopped myself.

 _…Oh my God!_ I think in horror. 

Meanwhile, Chet and Duncan are still talking.  “I gotta come over and see this,” Duncan says.  “Hey… can you hypnotize my girl?”

Chet laughs.  “Yeah, bro, the more the merrier.  Can she and me and Kim do a threesome?”

“Gross, dude,” Duncan says.

“That may have to be the price, Dun,” warns Chet.  “Natalie is hot.  I’ve always wanted to hit that.  Don’t worry, I’ll make Kim convince her to try hypnosis.  It’ll be fine.”

“Hey,” he says suddenly.  “My charger.  I think its in the bedroom.”  I hear him cross the living room, heading for the bedroom door.  I freeze.

“Oh, no no, dude,” Duncan says.  “I forgot to tell you; its here.”

Chet grunts, but doesn’t open the bedroom door.  “Its at _your_ place???  You ‘effing ‘tard.  Why didn’t you say so?  I drove all the way over here.”

Duncan sounds sheepish.  “Sorry bro.”

Chet grumbles something.  “Forget it,” he says at last.  “Listen, I have a better idea.”  I hear him move to the hall closet.  “You still got your hi-def camera?”

“Yeah,” Duncan replies.

“’Kay,” says Chet.  “Bring it tonight, but leave Natalie.  I got an idea.”

“What?”

“I’ll put Kim under and convince her that she’s a famous porn star.  Then I put on a ski mask or something so you can't see my face. And then you film us boning.”

I gag.

“Then,” Chet continues, “we’ll post the vids on YouPorn or somewhere.  I’m telling you, Kim could make a fortune in porn.  We’ll make major swag on her.”

“Aw man,” Duncan protests, “I gotta zoom in as you bang your girlfriend?  I don’t need to see your junk in hi-def.”

“Dude, its fine,” says Chet, sounding annoyed.  “You always wanted to be in porn; this will be your ski-lift ticket.  Hey, I’m stepping out.  We gotta change topics.  You square with coming over tonight?”

“Can’t be tonight, bro,” Duncan says.  “Next Tues at the earliest.”

“Fine, Tues,” Chet agrees.  I hear him grab his jacket, and then he is out the front door.

I stand in the bedroom, unable to believe what I have just heard.  My brain feels like it is exploding.

*** 

 _Chet… hypnotized me?_ I think over and over.  The thought ricochets around in my head.  I feel sick.

I sit on the bed, concentrating.  Chet and I have been having a lot of sex recently.  And I have been acting weirdly submissive to him.

An advantage of being a yoga teacher is that yoga, while a physical exercise, is also a mental discipline.  I don’t really care about the mental and spiritual stuff; I do yoga because it makes my butt look hot and teaching yoga beats waiting tables.  But I’ve sat through enough classes to know some of the mental mumbo-jumbo.

I lie back on the bed, and assume a meditation pose.  I remember Miss Amber, one of my first yoga instructors before I got certified to teach.  Miss Amber was an extreme free spirit and I think she must smoke a lot of weed because maaaaaan, was she spacey.  In every pose, she was always talking about our spiritual communions with nature, the universe, and whatnot.

I close my eyes, implement deep breathing, and picture Miss Amber.  There she is, as fruity as ever.

 _“Go deep within yourself,”_ Miss Amber tells me in her dippy sing-song voice, _“feeling the connection and energies between your body and the earth beneath you.”_

I sigh inwardly.  I am definitely channeling Miss Amber.

 _“As you breathe,”_ Miss Amber drones on, _“your mind and eternal spirit turns inward.  Be aware of all feelings now.  Gaia is talking to you, through you, within you.”_

And so on.  I concentrate, imaging myself back in Miss Amber’s run-down North Hollywood studio.  I can almost smell the mildew and sweat of the place.

And suddenly, memories start bobbing up in my head, like ingredients in a soup.  A clear image comes to me:  I remember the VIP room of Spearmint Rhino!  I see myself and Chet; Chet is lounging on deep velvet couches; I am dancing about for him in my g-string.  I totally fucking believe that I am a stripper.

Everything comes back to me in a flash.  I remember my stripper-conversation with Chet, my dance, the sex.  I remember grabbing his money.  I remember thinking the bouncer would make sure I got fired for having sex with a customer.  Most of all, I remember Chet telling me, “ _You are my slave._ ”

And I remember replying, “ _Yes, Master._ ”

I remember it all.

Obviously I’m upset.  Pissed, feeling violated, enraged, betrayed, you name it.  I force myself to calm, breath some more.  Miss Amber guides me back to her studio.

Over what must be the next hour, Miss Amber and I delve back into my memories.  Soon, I remember it all.  I remember **_everything_**.

Chet has been very clever.  Over the last two weeks, he has hypnotized me at least once a day.  Each time, he has put commands and triggers into my subconscious.  Like tendrils in my mind, these secret keywords lie dormant until he activates me.  I obey them without the slightest notion that I am under his control.  I then forget all the depraved stuff he has commanded me to do.  I cannot resist when he triggers me.

Only now…  My conscious mind knows what happened.  Chet’s power over me should be broken.

I hope.

*** 

Feeling quite unlike myself, I open my eyes.  I stare at the ceiling.  I sit up on the bed.

A plan has formed in my mind.  I hop off the bed, and begin to root around in the pile of crap next to Chet’s side of the bed.  Chet doesn’t really believe in a laundry basket, he just drops his old clothes on the floor when he’s done.  So my search is a pretty disgusting exercise.

But I eventually find what I’m looking for:  Chet’s copy of “Hypnosis for You and Your Friends.”  By I. H. Priestly.  I don’t know where Chet got this, but it looks well-worn.  Despite my newfound loathing for my slimeball boyfriend, I’m impressed that Chet put so much work into learning.

Over the next three hours, I read.

It turns out that there is a lot of overlap between hypnosis and yoga.  Who knew?  At the end of every yoga class is a brief meditation, the Shavasana.  I’ve never really thought about it much before, and when I teach, I just feed my students the same bullshit touchy-feely Shavasana phrases my instructors once used on me.

But as I read these hypnosis scripts, I immediately understand what is happening to the hypnotized person.  Hypnosis is guided meditation, with the hypnotist in control.  I can do that.  Once a person is deeply hypnotized, as I was, they lose control and the hypnotist owns them.  It couldn’t be plainer.

I rehearse one of two of the easier scripts.  I think out my plan.  I do a little Internet research on my phone.

By the time six-o-clock rolls around, I’m ready.

*** 

Chet bangs through the front door and grins when he sees me.  My stomach flips, but I force a smile.  I am boiling spaghetti, pretending to be the good little housewife.  (Spaghetti is all I know how to cook.)

“Hey babe,” Chet says.  I now hear the fake affection in his voice.  He bounds over and kisses me.

God, he’s hard already.  I steel myself for what I know is coming.

“Dinner in ten,” I say, hoping that I sound casual.

“Okay,” he replies.  I feel his body press against mine.  He wants sex now.

“You know what?” says Chet.  He switches off my burner.  “Let’s sit for a bit.”

I protest, “But… dinner!”

He takes my hands and I allow myself to be led to the bedroom.  “Really, Chet?” I grumble.

He smiles, devilishly.  “Sleep!” he barks, and snaps his fingers before my eyes.

I feel an intense desire to surrender.  My eyes want to close, my body wants to collapse, and my mind wants to submit.  I allow my eyes to close.  My knees sag, and Chet catches me and lowers me onto the bed.  My consciousness almost slips into sleep.

Almost.

I force myself to stay focused, stay alert, stay in control.  The relaxation feels so good in my body, and I want to give up and slip back into hypnosis.  Now I understand why this so utterly worked on me before.  You know how you feel when your alarm goes off and you’re in a deep sleep?  You know you should wake up, but every fiber of your body wants to drift back into sweet sleep.  That’s what this feels like.  Sort of.

I nearly drift under Chet’s spell.  Somehow, my conscious mind asserts itself.

And then, all feelings of submission vanish.  I am lying on the bed, totally relaxed, but in control of my own thoughts.  I keep my eyes closed.  I am awake, alert, ready.

So far, so good.  But I have to be careful not to submit to any of Chet’s other trigger commands.  He could still get me.

“Now,” I hear Chet’s voice above me, “in a moment, I will count from one to five.  On the count of five, you will awaken.  You will be so horny, you must fuck me immediately.  You cannot wait.”  He paused.  “Also, you know it turns me on when you are my slave.  So you will become my slave and call me ‘Master.’  Do you understand?  Nod once for ‘yes’.”

I nod yes.

“Excellent,” Chet murmurs.  When he’s using his hypno-voice, Chet sounds soothing and commanding.

He counts from one to five and awakens me.  I blink and sit up, and hoping my performance fools him.  I’m a professional actress.  I can do this.

Chet is watching me carefully.  Already his greedy hands are rising up my thighs.

 _Here we go,_ I tell myself.  Forcing myself to act sexy and submissive, I lean towards him, and in my best bimbo voice say, “Master… I want to fuck you.”

Chet’s smile is like a sunrise.  “Good, slave,” he commends.  He pulls off his shirt, and then his hands dip beneath my tee-shirt.  Soon his fingers are on my breasts.

I push against him, playing the part.  This is hard, but I’m a trooper.  Now I play my ace card.

“Master?” I breathe.

“Mmmgh?” he grunts.

“Master, is it okay if… I’m bleeding?” I say as coyly as possible.

Chet loses his erection.  Its impressive; like a balloon deflating at top speed.  “You’re _what?_ ” he growls.

Chet has this thing about period sex; he finds it gross.  I don’t know why, my previous boyfriends never cared.  But I know that Chet is positively sickened about the thought of blood on his penis.

He groans with disgust, and leans away.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he snarls.

“I’m sorry, Master,” I say.  I hope I look forlorn.  “Please, can we still-“

“Aw maaaaaan,” Chet says, more to himself than to me.  What a charmer.

“Master,” I say quickly.  “Let me please you with my hands.”

He eyes me, intrigued, but suspicious.

“Lie on your stomach, Master,” I instruct.  “I’ll massage you first.”

I gently propel him with my hands, and he allows himself to be guided.

Now he is lying on top of the sheets, belly down.  I straddle his butt.  I squirt too much hand sanitizer into each palm and then begin rubbing his lower back.  “Yes, Master,” I coo.  “Let your slave soothe you.”

I can tell he is puzzled, but does not sense the danger.  So far, so good.

“My poor master,” I pout, massaging him.  “Why so tense?  You need this.  Let me relax you; when you are ready, I will jerk you off.”  I lean forward and add in my best sex voice: “I can’t wait to touch your cock, Master.”

He grunts, but does not protest.  I continue rubbing.  “Relax your back, Master,” I urge him.  “Relax….”

I massage and continue telling him to relax, relax, relax.  I add deepening techniques from the book.  I test his depth of trance as I go, careful to mix in promises of the World’s Greatest Handjob as I do.  Chet doesn’t resist in the slightest.  He has no idea what is happening to him.

I’ve never hypnotized someone before, so in one sense, I have no idea what I’m doing.  But my yoga background is playing off in spades here.  I’m now realizing that while in group meditation, I’ve been hypnotized many times before by my yoga instructors and I have probably hypnotized many of my students.  Its wild realization.

The difference is, of course, hypnosis-in-yoga is about healing and rejuvenation and affirmation and all that crap.  Hypnosis in the bedroom is about control and sex.  I’m in control.

Now to see if my crazy scheme will work.  I slide off Chet’s ass and lie beside him.

“Now Master,” I tell Chet, still using my submissive sex-voice, “I will count from one to five.  When I reach five, you will open your eyes and sit up, and we will talk.  But you will be only able to speak dog language.  You have forgotten English and can only speak in dog words.  It will be totally natural for you.  One… two… three… four…”

I pause here and cross my fingers.

“Five!”

Chet blinks.  His face comes back to life.  He sits up.  I watch him closely, hoping this works.

“How do you feel, Master?” I murmur.

“ _Rrrrrrrouff!_ ” Chet barks.

Relief floods through me.  “Oh, good,” I coo.

“ _Woof!_ ” Chet tells me.  “ _Rrrrrrrarff!  Woof woof!_ ”  His tongue hangs out of his mouth.  He actually pants!

He’s mine.  I’ve won.  I am gloating inside.  No longer playing the slave, I drop the submissive voice.

“Lean back,” I order him.  Chet stares at me, confused, but he does as I say.

“Now,” I say, “you will SLEEP!”

Chet’s face goes blank as he falls into trance.  He’s out.  Time to get to work.

*** 

It is 11:15 PM.  I am in the bedroom again, packing furiously.  My girlfriend Kat is putting me up for the night, but I gotta get over to her place before too much longer; she works the early morning shift.

I am loading up my car and moving out _tonight_.  Obviously Chet and I are done, and I’m disgusted I ever saw anything attractive in that piece of shit.  Unfortunately for him, there’s only his name on the lease.  When he comes home and finds me moved out, he’s on his own.

Tomorrow I need to get my ass in gear and find a new apartment.  I’m not too worried about that; I have lots of friends in the area and someone will let me move in if I plead my case enough.  If I’m really desperate, there are a few middle-aged producers who will let me stay at their beach house.  As long as their wives don’t know I’m there, that solution could work for a few weeks.  It might be nice to live in luxury for a while.

Finding a new yoga job will be harder; but I can do it.  I’m a Cali girl.

As I struggle to zip up my enormous suitcase, the Eleven-O-Clock News comes back on.  “ _And now, a disturbing story from North Hollywood,_ ” the anchor says.  “ _A local man was arrested earlier this evening for allegedly masturbating in public on an elementary school playground._ ”

I stop and look up.  On the screen, there’s a grainy video of a handcuffed Chet led to a police car by two officers.  His crotch is digi-blurred, because, well, he isn’t wearing any pants.

“ _LEGALIZE PEDOPHILLIA!!!_ ” Chet bellows at the camera.

Poor Chet.  I didn’t hypnotize him to be a pedophile, but I did command him to jerk off on that playground when the kiddies were home in bed.  I also ordered him to shout out the most socially unacceptable thing he could think of once the police arrived.  _Legalize pedophilia???_   Chet’s imagination is fertile indeed.

I snap off the TV.  A quick Google search has **_strongly_** suggested that after his arrest, Chet will have to register as a sex offender in the State of California.  That will make it difficult to get another personal trainer job.

Karma’s a bitch.


End file.
